Alone on an island. I stand so frail in the wind.

the waves lap deceptivaly against the shore

in a Parody of a vactioners beach.

I have supplies, food, water, shade galore.

But I am poorer still in what I need most.

I have books, both filled with words and awaiting my own.

I have a hammock to rock in and relax.

But dispite the paradise that lays before me.

I feel but a pauper in the poorest rags.

No hint of laughter on the wind.

No footprints small in the sand.

No inquiring questions on sun or surf.

I yearned so long all year for peace.

I begged for quiet for lonesome reprive

Yet now I'm here and irony pierces me.

All year I long for peace and now in the summer sun I have it.

And nothing would please me more than to return

To my class so loud and cheery.

To my School now empty and cold. 

I yearn for my domian of education

Where I sowed the seeds of young minds.

As I stand on a perfect beach basking in a paradise vacation

I cannot survive with out my work.

For as a teacher I yearn to teach.

and being alone with none to teach

Is a special hell on it's own.